Happy Dance Resumed
Yes, the news is officially out now, so I can blow my own trumpet (again). And also explain why I'm trying so hard to lose enough weight to get into my kilt. My novel Natural Causes, born out of a short story I had published in the Fall edition of Spinetingler last year, has been shortlisted for the CWA Debut Dagger Award.
Congratulations to all the other shortlisted writers. I hope none of you win. I was staggered when I learnt about it over a month ago, and it still gives me a little thrill to see my name up there. Hopefully the publishers who have spent so many years pouring scorn and indifference on my fantasy and SF writing will now take a bit more notice. I'd keep my fingers crossed, but it makes typing quite hard.
Anyway, the awards dinner is in London on July 5th, and I've booked my ticket. The invitation says 'Black Tie Preferred,' which means I have to wear my kilt - none of this lounge suit nonsense I'll have you know. Actually it means I have to wear my evening kilt,* the one in the dress tartan that goes with the Montrose jacket and the diced stockings, but let's not get too technical here.
My evening kilt was made for me when I was in my early twenties, an age to which I can no longer lay claim. And whilst I consider myself trim, the years have seen a bit of spread - let's not call it fat so much as repositioning. Gone are the days when I needed a belt to keep my 28 inch waist trousers up. Indeed, gone are my 28 inch waist trousers - well those baggy cords were never really very fashionable anyway. Elastic waistbands are so much more civilised. The last time I wore my evening kilt it was a touch on the tight side, and I am a teensy bit heavier than I was then.
So, since learning of my shortlisting, I have been trying to row back the years a little. Mostly this has involved an embargo on weekend Martinis, the use of kitchen scales to more accurately gauge portion sizes at mealtimes, and a return to the running regime that I had sadly allowed to let slip (a bit like my chest, as Obelix would say) over the past few months.
Something must be going right. Amoebic dysentery aside, I've managed to shed ten pounds in a little over a month. Sadly there's now a little under a month to go until the big day. I could really do with more.
* I have a day kilt too, in green rather than the red of the dress tartan. This is for more casual occasions, and was made for me when I was still a teenager. It fits, if anything, even worse than the evening one.
Congratulations to all the other shortlisted writers. I hope none of you win. I was staggered when I learnt about it over a month ago, and it still gives me a little thrill to see my name up there. Hopefully the publishers who have spent so many years pouring scorn and indifference on my fantasy and SF writing will now take a bit more notice. I'd keep my fingers crossed, but it makes typing quite hard.
Anyway, the awards dinner is in London on July 5th, and I've booked my ticket. The invitation says 'Black Tie Preferred,' which means I have to wear my kilt - none of this lounge suit nonsense I'll have you know. Actually it means I have to wear my evening kilt,* the one in the dress tartan that goes with the Montrose jacket and the diced stockings, but let's not get too technical here.
My evening kilt was made for me when I was in my early twenties, an age to which I can no longer lay claim. And whilst I consider myself trim, the years have seen a bit of spread - let's not call it fat so much as repositioning. Gone are the days when I needed a belt to keep my 28 inch waist trousers up. Indeed, gone are my 28 inch waist trousers - well those baggy cords were never really very fashionable anyway. Elastic waistbands are so much more civilised. The last time I wore my evening kilt it was a touch on the tight side, and I am a teensy bit heavier than I was then.
So, since learning of my shortlisting, I have been trying to row back the years a little. Mostly this has involved an embargo on weekend Martinis, the use of kitchen scales to more accurately gauge portion sizes at mealtimes, and a return to the running regime that I had sadly allowed to let slip (a bit like my chest, as Obelix would say) over the past few months.
Something must be going right. Amoebic dysentery aside, I've managed to shed ten pounds in a little over a month. Sadly there's now a little under a month to go until the big day. I could really do with more.
* I have a day kilt too, in green rather than the red of the dress tartan. This is for more casual occasions, and was made for me when I was still a teenager. It fits, if anything, even worse than the evening one.
Comments
And besides, it's a great ice-breaker and conversational point, which should be handy at a party where I know absolutely no-one. Also the ladies get to fondle my sporran - it's made from rabbit fur, don't you know.
Still, congratulations again and I can say that knowing it won't get yoiked off this time. But I know what it's like, I'm still trying to keep my impending Nobel peace prize a secret.
Congrats again! And I second your wish that you snatch the win from your competitors.
I too am glad that you're going to be suffering your way into a kilt. That'll teach you ;}#
I hope you'll fit into that kilt - men in kilts are hot. *grin*